


Spoons

by cheerforthewyverns



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Chronic Pain, Coming Untouched, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Smut, Grey Warden Stamina, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheerforthewyverns/pseuds/cheerforthewyverns
Summary: Fenris learns about spooning, and Anders works on not being an anxious mess.
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	Spoons

**Author's Note:**

> This story came out of wanting to write something very cute and ending up with something very smutty (and hopefully still cute).
> 
> There are some very, very brief and non-specific allusions to past abuse (for Fenris), and a few short instances of Anders having an anxiety spiral.
> 
> The rest of the group makes a very brief appearance at the beginning, so that I could set up what little plot there is, and make some jokes.

It had been another night at the Hanged Man, all of them packed cozily into Varric’s suite for drinks and cards, even Donnick. But as all things do, the evening had to come to a close, and the group prepared themselves to head out into the autumn chill of Kirkwall.

Anders put on his coat, and Fenris tucked himself into the large, gray wool shawl Merrill had made during her fall-induced storm of knitting. Content to listen to his friends prattle as they collected their things and drained their cups, the mage stood behind Fenris and slipped his arms around him, resting his chin easily on top of the snowy hair.

After a moment, Fenris relaxed into the embrace, and Anders, feeling very pleased with himself, hugged a bit tighter. They were still working on public displays of affection, but it would be their first cold season together, at least as cold as Kirkwall got. Anders planned to do as much public hugging and hand-holding as the elf would allow, with the excuse that it was to keep him warm, of course.

“So sweet!” Merrill cried suddenly, clapping their little hands together, their cheeks flushed with drink. “Anders and Fenris are spoons.”

“I think Fenris is more of a knife,” Hawke laughed.

“Fenris has a big _sword_ , sweet thing,” Isabela drawled.

Fenris sighed loudly and turned his head up to look at Anders, his brows knitted. “Spoons?” he asked, exasperated.

“I’ll explain when we get home,” Anders said, grinning.

They had a brisk but pleasant walk to the mansion ( _home_ , Anders thought, _home home home_ ). After setting a fire in the hearth of their shared room, having a quick wash, and putting on fresh sleeping clothes, they settled into bed. Fenris pressed against Anders’s shoulder, and Anders lifted his arm to let the elf snuggle close with a sigh. Fenris looked up, his face completely serious.

“Spoons.” he said again. This time it was definitely not a question.

Anders laughed. “Roll so you’re facing away from me, and I’ll show you.” When the elf hesitated, Anders added, “I promise, it’s nice. But, if you don’t like it, we won’t do it again.”

The elf frowned. “Is it...sexual?”

_That_ was a thought. “It _can_ be, but it usually isn’t,” Anders said, hoping his voice sounded even.

Still frowning, Fenris rolled over to face the hearth, and Anders settled behind him. He carefully threaded his lower arm under Fenris’s neck and folded it around the pillow, then looped the other arm around his torso. He pressed his hand to the elf’s chest, giving it a soothing rub through his sleeping shirt. Finally, he tucked his long legs up behind Fenris’s, and pressed his nose into the soft, closely cropped hair on the back of Fenris’s head.

They fit together perfectly.

“See?” Anders mumured. “Like spoons in a drawer.”

Fenris softly said, “Oh.”

Anders hummed in assent and kissed the back of Fenris’s neck. “What do you think?”

“I like it,” Fenris sighed.

Anders gave him a squeeze, and another kiss.

“You are very warm,” Fenris added.

Anders hummed again.

Fenris went quiet, and Anders felt much of the usual tension that seemed to keep the elf’s body upright slowly fade. When his shoulders unclenched, Anders could feel his whole back gradually loosen, vertebra by vertebra, until finally his hips and legs settled more deeply into the cuddle. Anders resisted the urge to sweep him up, to cover him in kisses, to possibly cause that lovely body to seize up again with alarm. Instead, he enjoyed the simple pleasure of holding the man he loved and feeling him drift off to sleep, then following him into the Fade.

* * *

When Anders awoke, it was already morning, and he felt more refreshed than he had in quite a long time. Fenris was still in his arms, curled small, breathing evenly, the covers tucked up under his chin. Anders pressed his face back into the elf’s hair, taking the time to discern the oddly woodsy scent of Fenris, the lingering musk of oiled leather, and the citrus smell of the soap Fenris liked.

Finally, Fenris stirred, then tensed minutely and went still. Anders could practically see the fretful gears turning in his head.

“Morning, love,” Anders said softly.

Fenris turned quickly to look at him. A series of emotions passed over his handsome face: wariness, surprise, then a shy smile.

“Good morning,” the elf rumbled, his voice rough with sleep. “Did we...sleep like that all night?”

“I think so.” Anders reached up and brushed a silky strand of hair out of Fenris’s eyes. For the millionth time, Anders was struck by how beautiful Fenris was, how clever, how brave. He felt impossibly lucky to have taught this gorgeous, brilliant person about _spooning_ , of all things.

Fenris bit his plush lower lip. “I would like to continue, if you can stay the morning.”

His heart in this throat, Anders nodded, and Fenris turned back over. They arranged themselves again, Fenris’s back firmly pressed to Ander’s chest, their hips and knees tucked together. Anders tugged the covers back up over both of them, and couldn’t help but give the elf a squeeze, leaving soft kisses along his neck and shoulder where the sleeping shirt was pulled askew. Anders could tell that Fenris was thinking again, however.

“I feel...good,” Fenris said carefully. “I mean, this feels good”—he squeezed Anders’s arm to his chest—“but _I_ also feel good. Better than I usually do in the morning.”

Anders willed himself to tread carefully. “What do you mean?”

Fenris sighed, and snuggled back even closer. “You know I have pain, mage.”

Anders’s felt a pang in his chest, but stayed silent.

“In the morning,” Fenris continued, “my neck and lower back are often stiff and sore. It usually lessens quickly with exercise, but it does not seem to matter how I sleep, and is often worse with cold or stormy weather. But, on nights when we sleep close together, I feel better in the morning, this morning especially.”

To help Fenris’s pain and discomfort, they’d tried various things: herbs, compresses, hot and cold baths, massage, spellwork to monitor the lyrium, not drinking alcohol (Fenris _hated_ that one, and it didn’t really seem to make a difference). Methods that _did_ work only seemed to hold the pain at bay, never eliminate it. This didn’t sound like a permanent solution either, but was intriguing nonetheless.

Anders exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “You mean cuddling while we sleep makes you feel better?”

“It appears so.” The elf paused. “I think it is your magic. It...leaks.”

“My magic _leaks_?”

Fenris rolled back over in his arms to look at him. “The spell you do, where you just...heal.”

“Panacea. But I’m not casting it while I _sleep_.”

Fenris shrugged. “I think it is something you just do. Like breathing.” He pressed a hand to Anders’s bare chest, the dark skin and lyrium striking against the golden hair on the mage’s chest and stomach. “I can hear it sometimes, even when you are asleep.”

Anders felt like he was about to cry. He pulled Fenris tight against himself, kissing his forehead, his nose, his eyelids. He rubbed his hands up and down Fenris’s back, feeling the solid weight of him under his soft sleeping shirt shirt. “I don’t want you to be in pain,” he whispered. “I wish I could take it away entirely.” He couldn’t actually say how he felt, how much it meant that his mere physical presence gave Fenris some relief. There weren’t words.

“I know, mage,” Fenris murmured against his chest, tangling their legs together. “Anders?”

“Yes, love?”

“I would like to kiss you.”

“ _Please_.”

Fenris stretched up to press a soft but fervent kiss to the mage’s mouth. Anders cupped Fenris’s face in his hands, lightly touching his long pointed ears, and Fenris melted against him. Anders felt hands slip down between them, dexterous fingers starting to untangle the ties of his sleeping pants, before Fenris pulled back. “Is this alright?” Fenris asked, his voice low.

Anders smiled. “It’s very alright, as long as you get undressed too.”

Fenris nodded, smiling. He sat up, and Anders took the opportunity to run his hands up Fenris’s sides under the long sleeping shirt to help lift it off over his head, then tossed it to the floor.

Fenris was...extremely beautiful. His hair was sleep tousled, his eyes bright, his handsome, elfy face missing its usual tension, his muscled shoulders rounded with relaxation. The lyrium lines that radiated out from his sternum glistened softly in the early morning light. Anders grazed his eyes down the elf’s taut, hairless chest and stomach to see that his cock was already stirring, and he felt his mouth water. Then Fenris shivered.

“Oh.” Anders, always a furnace, realized belatedly that the morning air was chilly. He made a quick gesture and the fire leapt back to life in the hearth.

Fenris smiled in thanks, moving closer and sliding his hands up Anders’s thighs to return to work on the ties, deft around the tenting front of his sleeping pants. Anders wriggled out of them, and Fenris added them to the pile on the floor, then lost no time in clambering on top of the mage for another ardent kiss. Anders sank back happily on the pillow and let Fenris get comfortable on top of him. Fenris was heavy, dense with muscle, and the weight of him was very, very pleasant, indeed.

Fenris kissed down Anders’s throat and nipped at the pulse point with his sharp teeth, and Anders gasped, both at the sensation and in delight. He loved this, loved having Fenris over him, exploring. Fenris nuzzled against his neck, his fingers carding into the mage’s long hair where it pooled over the pillow, then came back up for another deep kiss.

As they kissed, Anders gently but firmly massage the elf’s lower back, trying to melt away any of the stiffness and discomfort Fenris usually had. Fenris made a sound into his mouth and rolled his hips appreciatively, and Anders could feel the elf’s cock slide against his stomach. He braced his legs and lifted his hips to give more friction from below. Fenris gasped, and made a few short thrusts against him before burying his face in Anders’s neck and stilling.

“Anders,” Fenris said, muffled, sounding breathless, but amused.

Anders kissed his ear. “Feel good?” he murmured. “You can rub yourself off on me if you want.”

Fenris huffed. “It feels good, but...silly.”

“Not silly, if it feels good and we both like it,” Anders said firmly, kissing the elf’s temple.

Fenris shook his head, smiling. “There is something else I’d like to do.” He flipped them both over so Anders was on top (Maker, he was fast, and _strong_ ), wrapped his arms around Anders’s neck, and rumbled, “I want you inside me.”

Anders’s mind went completely blank. “Are…” He had a difficult time catching his breath. “Are you sure?”

They’d had a _lot_ of sex in their short time together as a couple, and tried many different things, and they were both pleased to discover that the still-growing list of things Fenris liked far outstripped the list of things he didn’t. But they had not done _that_ more than a couple of times. However, Fenris liked it very much as long as he was in the right mood (which seemed to be _safe and cared for_ ), and if he could see and know it was Anders.

“Yes. Very sure.” Fenris kissed him, hard.

Anders returned the kiss, cupping the elf’s face in his hands, rubbing his fingers over his smooth cheeks, his fine jaw, his long, sensitive ears, his soft hair. Anders shifted up on his knees to get a better angle for kissing, and Fenris wrapped his legs around his hips, pulling himself up against the mage, then started _grinding_ , and Anders rutted mindlessly against him for a few moments until he came up for air.

“I love you,” Anders said. He had meant to say, _I want to do that,_ _too_ , but his brain and his mouth didn’t seem to be connected correctly.

Fenris’s eyes were dilated, his mouth wet and kiss-bruised. “Anders,” he breathed, low and husky. He relaxed back, pulled Anders back down to him. The mage felt his hot breath when he whispered, “Yours. I’m yours.”

Anders tried to breathe through the tight, hot feeling in his chest. He suddenly couldn’t touch enough of Fenris’s skin, so he rolled them over to their sides and ran a hand down the whole length of the elf’s body as it curled around him: his silky hair; his muscled back; his sinewy side and hip; his round, taut ass; the corded muscle of his thigh; his broad calf; his curled, sensitive foot.

Fenris yelped and twitched, smiling.

“My ticklish porcupine,” Anders laughed, kissing him soundly.

Fenris undulated against him. “I want you,” he breathed against Anders’s mouth, smiling wickedly.

“Fuck,” Anders sighed.

Fenris’s mouth twitched. “That is the idea. However, if you are still unsure, I suppose I could take care of things myself.”

Anders’s vivid imagination was suddenly awash with images of Fenris. That was nothing new, but these particular images were: Fenris on his back with his legs spread, fingering himself; Fenris on his knees, his back arched, fingering himself from behind; Fenris fucking himself on a toy (Anders had not even _begun_ to broach the topic of toys); Fenris pumping his fingers into himself until he came; Fenris fingering himself _and_ tugging on his thick, _dripping_ cock—

“Mage, you are elsewhere,” Fenris, gently cupping his face.

Anders took a deep, centering breath, and grasped one of the warrior’s strong hands, bringing it to his lips. “Would you put your fingers in yourself?” he blurted.

Fenris’s eyes widened.

“I definitely, definitely want to fuck you. But maybe”—he kissed each lyrium-striped knuckle—“you could help me get you ready?” Suddenly doubting his suggestion, he said quickly, “But you don’t have to, we can—“

“ _Yes_.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Fenris whispered huskily, “Anders.” He gently pulled his hand from Anders’s grasp and his fingers tickled down between their stomachs, then gently wrapping around Anders’s cock where it strained between them.

Anders didn’t try to hide the soft moan that curled in his throat when Fenris squeezed lightly, questioningly, and he rolled onto his back to give Fenris room. “Please, touch me, Fen.”

Fenris smiled. He leaned on an elbow and began to languidly stroke Anders’s cock. After a few pulls, he bent toward Anders’s ear and murmured, “I could not help but notice how _distracted_ my suggestion made you.”

Anders closed his eyes. The warrior’s callouses caught gently on his skin, creating lovely friction. He was very hard now, and he found that Fenris’s measured strokes and lovely, gravelly voice were, not surprisingly, further inflaming his lust.

“Is the idea of me taking things into my own hands really so arousing?” the elf continued.

“Yes,” Anders breathed, his brain and mouth clearly disconnected again. “I love watching you touch yourself. You are so bloody beautiful when you come. As soon as you said that, all I could think about was you coming with your fingers inside yourself.”

Fenris’s hand stopped. When he spoke again, his voice was even huskier. “Would you want that?” Then Anders could hear the sudden worry in his voice. “I am unsure if I could…”

Anders was already moving, turning to wrap himself around Fenris and kiss the frown from his lips. He said, “Let’s get you stretched, and you can decide what you want to do.” Another kiss to the elf’s mouth, then his nose. “I am really looking forward to being inside you, however you want. Want to get the slick you like?”

Fenris looked at him with his bottomless eyes, smiled, and nodded.

Anders gathered him up for another squeeze and another kiss, and Fenris wriggled to try to reach the bedside drawer where they kept their things.

“Anders,” he laughed.

Anders grinned and rolled them both closer to the drawer, and Fenris rummaged for the small jar of clear, clean-smelling grease, as Anders peppered his neck and chest with kisses. Sometimes, Anders would offer to use his grease spell, but he wanted Fenris to be completely in charge for this particular endeavor.

They reluctantly pulled apart to wrangle the jar. Anders popped the lid open, and Fenris laid back, all sinuous limbs and shining skin. His body was tense, but his face showed his keen interest and his cock was hard, laying along his stomach. Anders helped Fenris arrange a pillow under his hips, then scooped up some of the grease and shuffled on his knees between the elf’s spread legs. “Ready?”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “I have been _ready_ for quite some time.”

Anders laughed. “Oh, I can _see_ that.” Without further ado, he reached below the elf’s sack and gently prodded at the pucker of his hole with one slick finger.

Fenris gasped softly, but kept himself still. Without taking his eyes off of Fenris’s face, Anders began to press carefully inside, withdrawing a few times and rotating his wrist to evenly spread the slick. Fenris’s eyes snapped shut, and his breathing picked up.

“Fen, look at me.”

Fenris opened his eyes, seemingly confused that he’d closed them.

Anders reached for the elf’s hand with his free one. “With me, love?”

Fenris smiled when Anders took his hand, and nodded. “Please, continue.”

Anders moved his finger in and out a few more times, feeling how hot he was, how tight. Gradually, Fenris started to relax, his breathing slowing.

“There we go,” Anders said softly. “You don’t have to do anything, just let it happen.”

Anders withdrew the finger, and then returned with two, massaging against his hole. After a few moments, he pressed them inside to the second joint. Fenris gasped and lifted his hips slightly, and both fingers slid in easily up to the knuckle. Anders carefully began to scissor his fingers, up and down and side to side, looking carefully at Fenris’s face for any signs of discomfort. He felt a wave of relief and delight when the elf smiled and squeezed his hand.

“How are you doing?” Anders asked.

“Good. I feel...good.” Fenris lifted his free arm up over his head, stretching himself out with a sigh.

Anders was caught breathless for a moment. The sight of the warrior relaxed in their bed, with his own fingers inside him, sweetly holding hands like they were on a picnic, was too much. Anders swallowed and dove forward to kiss him. When he pulled back, Fenris’s eyes shone with delight, and he rolled his hips enticingly, shifting the fingers inside him. Suddenly, his expression transformed from smug to surprised, his mouth opening with a soft gasp.

Anders grinned and leaned back so he could watch. He curled his fingers and pressed the calloused pads against the spot he’d just brushed, then began to gently rub in circles.

“Anders,” Fenris breathed huskily.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Anders breathed. “I love seeing you like this.”

Fenris’s breath caught. Anders alternated for a while between scissoring to stretch him and stroking his prostate to keep him buzzing. Fenris’s eyes were half-closed, blown dark, his breath coming in soft pants.

“Ready for one more?” Anders asked, teasing with a third slick finger. Anders’s fingers were big and his own cock wasn’t particularly thick, but he wanted Fenris relaxed and happy.

Fenris started to nod, then paused. With his free hand, he lightly, questioningly touched Anders’s wrist between his legs.

“ _Oh_.” Anders’s mouth felt dry. “Yes, I think that is a brilliant idea.”

Fenris found the jar of grease, and spread a bit on his finger, then looked at Anders.

Anders could feel his heart pounding in his chest when he gently spread his fingers to give Fenris a bit of room. Slowly, biting his lower lip, Fenris reached down and carefully slid his slim index finger inside alongside Anders’s fingers, up to the knuckle.

Anders was pretty sure he was going to die, watching as Fenris began to slip his finger in and out, his breathing becoming uneven. After a moment of staring, Anders’s attention corrected itself, and he started to slide his fingers in and out along with Fenris’s.

“This was such a good idea,” Anders breathed. “You are a genius.”

“It’s—” Fenris panted. “I’ve done this for _you_ , and you’ve—but…”

Anders knew that Fenris’s careful control was truly fraying when his speech started getting more informal, his voice getting softer, his accent deepening. “It’s different, touching yourself,” Anders agreed, smiling. He sped up slightly, pumping more firmly.

Fenris gasped softly and caught up. His chest was rising and falling quickly, and there was a light sheen of sweat starting to appear on the hard planes of his chest and stomach. Anders wanted to lap it up, and lick the thick cock twitching against that stomach on every stroke of their fingers, but he was trying to stay on task. On the next in-stroke, he curled his fingers under Fenris’s, pressing all three into his prostate, and Fenris moaned, squeezing all of their fingers inside him. When he relaxed again, Anders started to draw out for another stroke, but Fenris stayed where he was. From the blissed-out look on his face, Anders could only imaging that he’d found a very good angle. Fenris’s eyes were closed, his mouth open, the muscles of his forearm rippling minutely under the skin as he massaged himself.

Anders felt a sudden throb from his neglected cock. He realized he was painfully hard, barely touched, and he was starting to drip precum on the sheets. Hoping that Fenris would not mind terribly if he took back his fingers for just a few moments, he gently withdrew them and wrapped his slick hand around the base of his own cock, squeezing hard. It took the edge off, but just barely.

“Anders.” Fenris’s eyes were open, and he was staring.

“I...” Anders started, apologetically, but he had no idea what to actually say.

Fenris let out a breathy laugh. He squeezed the hand he still held ( _we’re still holding hands!_ Anders thought), and slid two more slender fingers into himself. The stretch would not be as much as with Anders’s fingers, but he still gasped, and began pumping all three fingers in and out. “Touch yourself, Anders,” he breathed huskily.

Anders was sure he had died. He was at the side of the Maker, and reclining in the Maker’s golden throne was Fenris, fingering himself, and telling Anders to jerk off.

Breathing hard, Anders started to stroke his cock, letting the grease help, feeling a mix of relief and tension. He was very aware that this was perhaps a bad idea, that if he got too close now, he’d be coming immediately as soon as he got inside Fenris, but if he waited he may have the same problem. Warden stamina was a tricky thing, all jokes aside. With proper stimulation (to be honest, _most_ stimulation), he could come multiple times and stay hard, so it wasn’t really a problem, unless being hard _was_ a problem, and really he didn’t know if Fenris wanted him to come inside more than _once_ , or come inside _at all_ —

“Anders.”

His attention snapped back to Fenris, whose fingers had stopped moving, and whose handsome face was frowning.

“You are worrying, Anders.”

“I…” He swallowed. “I just want this to be good for you.”

Fenris withdrew his fingers from himself and let go of Anders’s hand ( _oh no_ ), b ut instead of pulling away, he moved closer, and Anders found himself wrapped up in the elf’s arms, Fenris’s mouth on his in a soft kiss . When Fenris drew back, he pressed his hand to Anders’s chest, over his heart, and looked deeply into his eyes. “You are _always_ good for me,” Fenris said, his voice low and rough. “You are patient and loving. You have taught me so much, and with such humor and kindness. I am yours because I trust and love you, completely.” He cupped the mage’s face gently. “What are you worried about?”

Anders swallowed. “I am very close.”

Fenris smiled. “From watching me.”

Anders nodded, slowly.

“And why is this a problem, exactly?”

Anders sighed, exasperated. “Because I don’t want you to think I’m some lecherous mage who can’t control myself around you. Because we’ve only done this a couple of times, and I want it to be _so_ good for you, and I don’t want to get carried away, or hurt you, or make you uncomfortable, or—“

“I see,” Fenris interjected. “May I make a suggestion?”

“ _Please_.”

“Stop thinking too hard about it?”

Anders rolled his eyes. “Have you _met_ me?”

Fenris nodded, sighing. “I have,” he deadpanned. He smiled ruefully. “I realize I am also not the most convincing person to advise against overthinking.”

Anders wrapped his arms around Fenris and hugged him close, and Fenris immediately melted against him. Anders took a deep breath, then exhaled. He pressed his lips to the elf’s ear. “I am going to fuck you,” he murmured. “I want to make you come, and I want to come inside you. I...may come inside you multiple times.”

Fenris turned his head to look at Anders, his eyes wide. “Go on.”

Anders frowned. “That’s it.”

Fenris’s eyes narrowed. “Then, do it.”

In a flash, Fenris fell back and pulled Anders over him. Anders scrabbled for balance and ended up on his knees between the warrior’s legs, with his hands on the bed on either side of Fenris’s head. Fenris languidly folded up his legs, drawing his thighs up on either side of Anders, rubbing his calves along Anders’s hips. Anders searched urgently for the jar of slick, and found it in Fenris’s hand.

“Let me,” Fenris purred.

Anders nodded, speechless.

Fenris scooped up a bit of the grease (Anders’s mind registered distantly that they’d need to get more, _soon_ ) and then every thought was driven from Anders’s head when Fenris gave Anders’s cock a slow, tight stroke all the way to the root. Without thinking, Anders thrust into the elf’s slick fist, because it felt so, so good, and Fenris made a low hum, then released him.

Anders quickly shifted his weight to his knees and grasped his cock, lining himself up. When the head of his cock touched the soft pucker, Fenris gasped, his fingers digging into Anders’s shoulders. Anders pressed his lips to Fenris’s ear again.

“Hold on, love. I’ve got you,” he whispered.

He went slowly, partly for his own sake, and partly because he didn’t want to give Fenris too much too soon. When the head popped in, Fenris sighed, and Anders thrust shallowly to press into him about halfway. Despite all of their preparation earlier, Fenris was still tight, but very slippery, and so hot. They were both breathing hard, and as Anders tried to calm himself enough to keep going, he relied on his readiest skill, which was talking.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Fen. I can’t believe I was trying to talk myself out of this. I am an idiot.” Not the tender admission he was hoping for, he had to admit.

Fenris chuckled. “But you are _my_ idiot.”

“Yes,” Anders whispered. “Yours.” And he sank to the root.

Fenris’s legs squeezed hard around him, pushing some of the air out of Anders’s lungs, and he hissed, “Venhedis.”

“Too much?” Anders panted, feeling himself throb.

“No.” Fenris stretched up and kissed Anders hard. “Perfect.”

Anders pulled out to the head, and slid back in. He made a few more slow thrusts, watching Fenris’s face. Fenris’s eyes were heavy-lidded, his mouth open, and he started to rock his hips with each push, drawing Anders into an easy, steady rhythm. Anders kept kissing him, because kissing was good, and Fenris loved kissing during sex, and Anders loved Fenris.

“I love you,” Anders whispered. “I love you so much.”

“My mage,” Fenris breathed. “I love you.”

More long, steady strokes, and Anders felt his mind finally start to haze, his anxiety dropping away a bit, his body feeling freer and lighter, even as he paid careful attention to Fenris’s every sound, every movement. He pressed his face into the side of Fenris’s neck, nuzzling and kissing, and whispered, “You are so fucking beautiful. So fucking brave.” The elf’s breath caught, and his hips stuttered before returning to their even rolling. Anders kept moving at the same steady pace, whispering endearments. “My sweet apple dumpling. My pickled plum.”

Anders could hear a staccato laugh burble up in Fenris’s chest, and then Fenris arched his back, rolling his hips, knowing _exactly_ what he was doing, his whole sinuous body moving as Anders fucked him, all of the elf’s delicious musculature seeming to massage him from the inside out . Anders’s pleasure was concentrating into a single point, his loins feeling liquid, his balls aching. His hips mov ed as if of their own accord, and an orgasm start ed to build _fast_.

“Fen—“ Anders gasped. “Fen—fuck. Fen, I’m—“

“Come, love,” Fenris murmured, panting, grinning. “I know you have more than one in you.”

Anders laughed, and groaned, feeling himself go over the edge. It was sharp and bright and quick, and he continued to grind mindlessly into Fenris as he shuddered through it. He could feel the wet heat inside Fenris, who held him close, kissed his cheek, his neck, his ear. After the aftershocks passed, Anders lifted his head and pulled in a long, cool breath. He felt relieved, energized, and somehow even _more_ aroused. He looked down at Fenris’s dilated eyes, his mussed hair, his grinning mouth, and kissed him hard.

Anders shifted his weight, looping his arms under the warrior’s powerful thighs and lifting him, his rock-hard cock still buried inside, and began pumping into him once again. The angle of his thrusts had changed, and suddenly Fenris gasped, then moaned, arching up, his fingers digging hard into Anders’s shoulders. Anders’s thrusts had become shorter, quicker, and shallower, and he knew from watching as Fenris’s eyes grew wild that he was rubbing all the right places with every stroke.

The elf’s mouth stretched again into a predatory grin, and Anders felt a bolt of heat when Fenris began to all but _bounce_ on his cock, meeting every quick thrusts from underneath. Anders shifted his grip and pulled the captive legs higher, angling the elf’s hips even more.

Anders watched with delight as Fenris’s control gradually faltered. His counter-thrusts stuttered, his breathing becoming ragged, his brows knitting.

“Anders,” Fenris gasped.

“Think you can come just like this?” Anders asked, breathless, teasing. He meant it as playful banter, preparing for the elf to say something witty, or wittily dirty, thinking back to the delicious idea of Fenris coming with just his own fingers, and hoping at the very least that he would get to to watch Fenris rebelliously jerk off while they fucked, in response.

Instead, Fenris’s eyes went wide, and something in him seemed to untether. He rode out Anders’s thrusts, his whole body going liquid. His eyes lost focus, his long lashes fluttering, his mouth slack, and after a few more strokes, Fenris let out a long, low moan, his eyes rolling back, his back arching. His hips jerked, seed pulsing over his stomach and chest in powerful spurts. Anders gasped and moaned at the intensity of all of Fenris’s internal muscles clenching around him, seeming to pull him even deeper. Still coming, Fenris curled, his legs tightening even more, his moans getting desperate, before he finally shuddered and collapsed back onto the bed with a final jet of come, his chest heaving, his expression shocked.

“Anders,” he gasped, his voice wrecked.

Anders scooped Fenris up in his arms, holding him tightly. Fenris clung to him, gulping for air against Anders’s neck.

“I’m—“ Fenris gasped. He swallowed, hard. “I didn’t— _Anders_.“

“That was beautiful,” Anders whispered. “You’re amazing.”

Fenris let out a sound that might have been a sob. Anders quickly looked to find his eyes shiny and his expression overwhelmed, his ears drooping. Anders pressed soft kisses to Fenris’s eyes, nose, and forehead, tasting sweat and tears.

“It’s okay,” Anders soothed, rubbing his sweat-slick neck and back. “Just give yourself a moment. Do you want me to pull out?”

Fenris shook his head vehemently and hugged Anders even closer, then drew a long shuddering breath. After a long pause, he mumbled, “Didn’t know I could _do_ that.”

“Me neither,” Anders sighed. _But I hoped_ _you could_ , he thought. Despite the fact that he was still hard, actually _harder_ , and still inside Fenris, he felt dreamy, floaty. Fenris sighed again and melted into the cuddle, his legs finally relaxing, to the relief of Anders’s lower back and lung capacity.

After a few more moments, Fenris spoke again. “It was...extraordinary,” he murmured. “You are extraordinary.”

Anders felt himself flush. “I think you did a lot of the work on that one, love.”

Fenris chuckled and began rubbing his legs over Anders’s hips and thighs like a giant, muscular cricket. To Anders’s absolute delight, Fenris seemed to be bouncing straight back from _coming with his cock untouche_ _d_ to _still_ _amorous_ , and he couldn’t help but shiver when Fenris pressed his mouth to his lips and murmured lowly, “But you’re still hard, Anders.”

“Yes,” Anders said, not sure what else to say.

“I’d like for you to come in me again,” Fenris said simply.

Anders laughed out a breath, shaking his head. “You’re not too sensitive?”

“Anders,” Fenris admonished. “If I am unwell, I will tell you. Please, do not avoid what you want because you think I _may_ find it difficult. I suggest it because I want it, and I think you want it, as well.”

“You are…” Anders shook his head again. “You are unlike anyone I have ever met, Fenris.”

Fenris smiled. “I could say the same, mage.”

Anders kissed him firmly, and resettled himself. Fenris relaxed back on the bed, wrapping his arms loosely around the mage’s neck, his expression fond and expectant, his eyes incredibly soft.

For the first time in a long time, Anders let himself really _try_ to stop thinking. He stopped thinking about making Fenris comfortable, about making Fenris come, about making Fenris happy, about the clinic, about mages, about Justice, and let himself just...go. He found himself setting a quick pace, each thrust rewarding him with the hot, wet slide of Fenris’s body caressing him, inside and out. Fenris was elastic, groaning softly at the first few hard thrusts, but quickly settling into a steady rolling motion under Anders, panting in his ear.

“How do you feel?” Fenris breathed.

Anders’s breath caught at the unexpected question, and his sex-addled brain tried to make an answer. “Amazing,” he breathed.

“Good,” Fenris murmured. He began to leave soft, wet kisses everywhere he could reach, on Anders’s throat, his ears, his chin, his mouth, his cheeks.

“Amazing,” Anders repeated, feeling his rhythm start to change, the strokes getting longer, but no less intense.

Fenris adjusted to the new speed and depth without looking away from Anders, eyes dark, mouth wet and open, a gorgeous fucked-out mess.

“I love you,” Anders whispered, his voice breaking. He was getting very close again, could feel it coiling fast in his loins.

“My mage,” Fenris breathed. “My gorgeous mage. My darling magpie.”

Anders’s breath caught, and he squeezed his eyes shut, and over the next few thrusts he felt a hot, swelling sensation push his whole body into a slow, hard orgasm that quaked him down to his toes. He made a keening sound, felt the second wave of hot wetness spill around his cock inside Fenris, could feel how Fenris held him, but mostly he just let it wring him out in wracking spasms, let himself go completely.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, utterly spent, his body feeling extremely heavy, his cock _finally_ soft. Eventually, he felt Fenris’s fingers gently carding through his hair, his soft breath in his ear. Anders pushed himself up shakily and looked at the elf’s face, which was relaxed and sleepy, his eyes barely open. Carefully, Anders pulled out, feeling wetness follow, and he rolled onto his back next to Fenris with a deep, contented sigh, closing his eyes.

He dozed, and after another indeterminate amount of time, he felt Fenris shifting on the bed beside him. He felt a soft cloth rub over his stomach and cock, and hummed appreciatively for Fenris’s fastidiousness. Then, the elf’s heavy, pliant body was pressed against his shoulder. Without thinking or opening his eyes, Anders moved his arm to circle Fenris, but Fenris didn’t snuggle against him like he always did. Alarmed, Anders opened his eyes.

Fenris’s face was shy and thoughtful. “Is it still spoons if I am on the outside?” he asked.

This man.

“It is. Want to try?”

Fenris nodded, and Anders rolled over onto his side, facing away. After a moment, he felt Fenris shuffle behind him, pulling the covers over them. He tucked close, and slid an arm around Anders’s middle, petting the soft hair on his chest. Anders felt a gentle kiss on his back, followed by a sigh, and not for the first (or last) time in his life, he was very glad that spooning could hide his watery smile and teary eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes on headcanons that show up here:
> 
>   * Anders (obviously) has anxiety.
>   * As in anything I ever post here, the group all gets along. All major infighting was added for dramatic flair by our very unreliable narrator, Varric.
>   * Early on when I decided to start writing about DA2, I decided to use neutral they/them pronouns for Merrill, since there are (I think) zero instances of gendered third person pronouns, or maybe zero third person pronouns at all, in what we know about the Elvhen language.
>   * Fenris is buff, don't at me.
> 



End file.
